Chapter 4 The Cook
After Edmund was confident that Linda was sufficiently aboard to have a look at the mill where, he was sure of this, she would get infected Jenny's drive and the strange charm of the location he moved towards his next target. Finding the right man or woman to take care of the kitchen. His brilliant plan of doing some restaurant/café/bistro hopping to find the right kind of inspiration had failed him. Yes he had a good feeling of what was hip right now and what wasn't but that really didn't lead him towards where he needed to be. Before he started he was sure that once he found the right individual he would _know_. After all his 'research' he was absolutely, totally and utterly positive that he would know when he found the one. A kind of stochastic victory perhaps. A kind of victory that helped get someone directly to the goal in one out of a thousand cases.
Edmund sighed. He had to resort to drastic measures it appeared. He had to actually do some work.
He contacted his friends that were part of the culinary scene either as craftspeople or as educated consumers. Jenny had told him to go through the hipster overground but Edmund decided to cast his net as wide as possible adding some old school foodies and a few healthy living zealots to the list. Out of that work grew like the most pestilent of weeds more work. More names more contacts and possibilities. And just knowing people wasn't really all that helpful either. He could hardly start a cook off royale with dozens of participants to see who would be the right person. Right? Even if the idea did seem rather appetizing to him for a short moment. But then could he really just talk to the people and hope that their words would translate into their dishes? For a moment he thought about asking Jenny for advice but that would mean letting her down. He couldn't do that. Not after seeing the fire back in her eyes. For one he could not risking camping that flame, also she had given him this quest and coming back with the tail between his legs after just a couple of days with only a maybe engineer in tow? No. That would be to horrible to contemplate. It would be even worse because by now Jenny had probably already gotten the basics of the café laid out and ready to go. No. That was impossible. He had to get this done on his own. So he did the only thing that would help him in this situation. He called Stephen and Lexa two friends he had neglected for far too long anyway, they could help he. As he had hoped they had a 'come together' planned for the night in their flat share and they welcomed him back into their overcrowded apartment with open arms, alcohol and indecent amounts of drugs. He felt an immense wave of relief wash over him and take with it all the stress and anxiety. He was safe.
The Lexa and Steven's layer was located just beyond the border of the city's centre. It was no longer in the beating heart of the city where the rent had reached philosophical levels that could only be understood by professional thinkers or ignored by those wealthy beyond reason. The flat was located in a place that once was the refuge of the working class but which long ago had been washed away by the affluent. The only way Lexa and Steven could live there was because they spent more than half of their rather generous city wages on it, as did Chris and Sarah, their flatmates. They all worked respectable jobs. The kind that came with almost as much prestige as long hours and enough competitions to make sharks nervous. However those who lived here had made a pact, that they would not sacrifice their lives at the altar of a society that burned away their people. Their words, not Edmund's who believed in not throwing yourself into this specific machine in the first place. But he had to admit that their form of pugnacious hedonism had a singular beauty to it. This was not the bland 'work hard, party hard' bravado from the usual young professionals whose lives while expensive were as pale as the champagne they wasted. Instead they worked a lot but lived hard afterwards.
When Edmund arrived the apartment bursting with music, smoke, dozens of voices and laughter. Chris and a few friends Edmund half remembered from other such 'meetings' were getting their coats.
"Hey, Edmund! Long time no so old man. Good to see you again.", said Chris when he saw him.
"Hey, I've been busy lately." Edmund say.
Chris laughed "When aren't you mate. Listen we were about to go to the chippy. You want to join us?"
"Nah, thanks I'm good."
"We can also get you something, just say the word." Chris offered.
"Thanks mate, but I have so much food in my mind that I could not possibly eat anything right now."
"That," said Chris, "made no sense at all. But suit yourself."
"Heeeey Edmund!" that was Steven who had just come out of a room carrying a giant bong that would have been the pride of any Venetian master glass-blower. "You have come at just the right moment. I am about to try out Lethe."
"The bong you are holding?" Edmund said.
"Oh Edmund, you wound me, this is not a bong. Well yes it is. But it is more than that. This," he held it up, "is part of a spiritual experience. Don't just stand there, come in and get yourself a drink. Hey Lexa!" he shouted "Edmund has descended from his heaven and is paying us a visit."
Edmund followed Steven into the large living room where a large sofa table was menaced a a circle of couches in several sizes and colours and they had brought reinforcements in form from many chairs. Most places were already filled by people who looked up as Steven entered the room holding up his trophy. The people cheered. Some of them recognized Edmund and greeted him calling him over to join them.
"Leave the man be." said Steven, "He hasn't even got a beer yet. For fuck's sake show some manners. Lexa?! Where are you."
"I heard you the first time." Lexa entered the room from the other door leading to the kitchen. She had a massive bag of weed in one hand and was holing two open bottles of beer in the other one. "'lo Edmund. I brought you a beer." she grinned.
"Perfect." said Steven. "Now make room. Make room for Lethe."
Ten minutes later Edmund and everyone else in the room was stoned like a heretic listening to the music or just enjoying the mood. The room itself was now filled with a sweet smelling smog that gave a very warm and fuzzy second hand high to anyone who entered the room.
"So what to what do we owe the honour of your presence Edmund?" Lexa asked who was had spread out over her part of the couch.
"First of all, it was time to see you all again." he said.
"And?" Lexa asked looking at him with surprisingly clear eyes.
"And I needed a break." Edmund said taking a sip from his now tepid beer.
"And there it is." Lexa said her hand shooting up pointing vaguely towards the ceiling.
"Is what?" Edmund asked letting his head slump into Lexa's direction.
"The truth, Edmund. The truth."
"I'm helping Jenny with project of hers and..."
"You bit of more than you can chew." Lexa said. "You saw, what ever it was she was planning, thought you could help her with it and in your youthful enthusiasm charged first and started asking question when it was too late."
"I don't charge first... I go and scout out the possibilities." said Edmund.
"Euphemisms will not help you E."
"It's not an euphemism."
"So your scouting mission is going well?" Lexa now turned towards Edmund.
"No, not yet."
"See?" Lexa said but there was no triumph in her voice only sympathy. She moved forward a bit and started rummaging in the segment below the tabletop. "Ah there we go. Here take this." she said handing Edmund a piece of white cardboard and a set of crayons.
"Really?" Edmund asked looking at the cardboard then at Lexa, then at the crayons, "Really...?" and that back to Lexa.
"Yes. Just draw something doodle a bit. Forget what you are doing for a while and return to yourself. I'm pretty sure that you haven't been there longer than your last visit."
So Edmund took his crayons and started drawing. In that time Steven had reloaded Lethe and called for everyone to taste her sweet breath again. When Steven saw what Edmund was doing he told him "You know what, I think your little project there needs a little help."
"I'm just doodling." Edmund said.
"You but, I know what will help you with your doodles." with that Steven got up only to return with a tequila bottle and two shot glasses. "This, my friend, is the good stuff."
It was far past midday when Edmund woke up. A bunch of doodles his pillow. Someone had thrown a blanket over him. The sunlight pushed its way through the curtains claiming the room for the day. Even discounting his simmering headache and the taste of existential futility that had taken over his mouth he was not alone. On the couch to his left lay a young man who was still sound asleep. He sat up, slowly. He didn't fell that hungover, but this could be trap. The hangover could be waiting, biding his time until Edmund made a sudden movement or did something stupid like trying to walk upright or breath to deeply, to then pounce and destroy him.
He felt a bit woozy and the head ache was happy just being a harbinger of future doom. He stood up. That was not to bad. He felt still a bit drunk and a bit baked. But all in all good enough to walk. He moved past the strange pyramid of glasses and past the grave mount of bottles towards the kitchen. He forded a lake of empty crisps packets, reaching the door. He opened and was blinded by the bright sunlight flooding the kitchen. He whimpered. The headache moved around uncomfortably but luckily it could not be arsed to do any real work.
The kitchen itself was another battle field, covered in plates real and cardboard, more bottles here standing upright covering almost every surface in a strange forest of glass. The sink was buried. And the stove looked like someone had attempted to cook by volcanic explosion. All in all it wasn't too bad. Edmund went to the refrigerator to be pleasantly surprised to find the tomato juice he was looking for. A good omen. Edmund went looking for some beans and toast and found them too. Another good sign. He dislodged one of the pans from the stove and prepared two virgin Mary's while he waited for the beans to heat up. He had been in this situation often enough top know better than to look for the other inhabitants in the flat. Either they had already gone to work or were still sleeping. In the first case no one would answer his calls and in the second one he would get screamed at for waking them up. The unwritten rule here was that if you wake up after a party you took care of yourself and your people. 'Your people' being who ever you woke up with. So in this case that meant breakfast (?) for Edmund and who over the fuck that guy on the other couch was.
Lethe a holy totem sat on top of the couch table almost alone as people had preferred to put their glasses and bottles on the floor or in the compartment below the tabletop rather then profane the holy space above. Which was great for Edmund as he could just put the things he brought from the kitchen on the table without having to try to make space in a room where the very concept clear surface had become preposterous.
Edmund touched the guys shoulder. "Good morning." No reaction. Edmund thought about letting the poor guy sleep, but decided to give it another try first. He shook him gently. "Hey, wake up, there's breakfast."
The young man made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a question mark.
"Good morning." Edmund tried again.
"Murbl..."
"There's beans and toast..." Edmund said.
"Blurghlmngh.." the answer was less then enthusiastic.
"Yeah. I know. Don't worry about that. I also made virgin Mary's, extra hot and spicy. That'll help you come back to the living."
"Vrghl mrruh?`"
"Like a bloody Marry but without the Vodka." said Edmund.
"gnnnn"
"Don't worry. I don't want to drink anything ever again either. You are safe. So what about sitting up? It's what's all the cool,kids are doing these days."
The unhappy man shape sighed and attempted to move. One had to admire the effort. First a leg was cast from the sofa, anchoring the man to the ground then a jerky motion to free one arm from the blanket. That mostly lead to the blanket tying itself around its victim. Some hapless arm waving and struggling later, he sat up only to fall back into the soft embrace of the couch. At least he was sitting more or less upright now. While the poor guy was still wrestling with the harsh realities of consciousness Edmund was making his way back into the kitchen.
"Try drinking a sip of the virgin Mary. It will bring you right back. I'll make coffee."
When Edmund returned from the kitchen the shape had turned mostly human and was nursing his virgin Mary. Edmund stopped in his tracks when he saw him. The young man was wearing simple utilitarian clothing. Workman like, but far to clean to have ever seen real labour, there was also something meticulous about its simplicity. This extended to the young man wearing them. His hair and beard was full and wild, but it was the wildness of a Japanese garden, where every single thing was carefully placed to perfectly embody wild unrestrained nature.
"Kismet..." Edmund breathed.
"What?" Michelangelo's hangover lifted his gaze towards him.
"Are you," Edmund spoke softly afraid of breaking the fragile strand of fate he felt at the very tips of his fingers, "by any chance a cook?"
"Yeah. How did you know."
Edmund had found his hipster.
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